My Saving Grace

Even when the pain from my illness was at its peak, I was never suicidal. I remember lying in bed and talking into a little tape recorder--how horrible I felt. I remember thinking that it was strange that I didn't want to kill myself.

I have come to the conclusion that at those times, my dead father was with me.

There is no other way I could have survived those awful moments. He obviously couldn't reach me, couldn't talk to me. He was just there with me, marking time and feeling my pain.

Of course, there is no way to prove this.

He committed suicide. I think that he didn't want me to go there.

Wherever he was.

He didn't want company.

I am not one to believe in ghosts, but when the ghost is your own father, it's a different story.

I just know this. No one has to believe me.

All the time he's been gone, he hasn't been gone.

He is my saving grace.